


in the moment (we're ten feet tall)

by schmetterlinq



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmetterlinq/pseuds/schmetterlinq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lu Han finally confesses, but they're almost out of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the moment (we're ten feet tall)

**Author's Note:**

> None of this happened, this is just a 'what if?' Unbeta'd so any mistakes are all mine.  
> Warnings! : smut (anal sex, oral sex, anal fingering, rimming), bad words, mentions of disorded eating/distorted body image, mentions of homophobia, everyone generally being horribly miserable and treated like shit by SM.  
>   
> This fic is dedicated to my darling Alicia who I love. You may not love me after you read this, but you can consider it revenge for making me care about this group and this pairing.  
>   
> Title from ['Wings' by Birdy](https://youtu.be/KtBcwEphCZs)

 

  


It rains all day the day before Lu Han comes back. Straight, heavy lines of rain that fall in sheets from the sky.  
  
Minseok concentrates on rehearsals: concentrates on pushing his body to put one foot before the other, step back, crouch, kick, turn. It helps, the exhaustion he always feels these days, a deep tiredness that seems to have settled into the marrow of his bones. It keeps his mind off Lu Han.

 

Lu Han arrives early in the morning, but the rest of the group are already at the venue, running through sound and lighting tests. They aren’t told that their missing band mate has arrived until about 11am, when they finally stop for a break.  
  
Minseok leaves the stage before their manager’s even finished speaking, hurrying back to the dressing rooms.  
  
Lu Han looks better, at least better than he did when Minseok last saw him. The dark circles under his eyes aren’t as deep, and when he stands up to greet Minseok, he doesn’t sway on his feet. But when Minseok embraces him, he can still feel all of Lu Han’s ribs, the vertebrae where his hands meet at Lu Han’s back.

 

Lu Han joins them for the rest of the morning’s rehearsal. He waits to break the news until lunch. He tells them all together — not, Minseok thinks afterwards, because Lu Han would have cared about everyone’s opinion on his decision, but because he still cares enough about some of them to at least pretend he’s thinking of the whole group.  
  
When Lu Han asks them all to sit, Minseok takes the place at Lu Han’s right side, instinctively. Lu Han looks tired — which is nothing to remark on these days; Minseok has got used to Lu Han looking much more than simply tired — but he also looks strangely defeated.  
  
“When the rest of the group leaves Beijing after the concert,” Lu Han says, once everyone’s finally settled, “I’m… I’m not going to be coming with you.”  
  
There’s a general bubble of questions: “Why?” “Where are you going?” “Do you have another schedule?”  
  
Minseok doesn’t say anything, because he’s already guessed.  
  
“I won’t be going anywhere,” Lu Han says. The words come out slowly, as though they’re very heavy. “I’m staying here in Beijing.”  
  
“When will you join the tour again?” asks Tao.  
  
Lu Han’s eyes close for slightly longer than a blink.  
  
“I… won’t,” he says. “I’m not going to come back.”  
  
Tao starts to cry. Some of the other members protest, possibly not because they particularly care about Lu Han leaving, but the group’s already gone through this once and they all know how people will react to it happening again.  
  
Joonmyun doesn’t say anything. When Minseok glances at him, his lips are a tight, white line, and he just shakes his head. Then he gets up and walks out of the dressing room. When the door closes behind him, the room falls silent again, except for Tao’s sniffles.  
  
After a few awkward moments, the others start to get up too, some of them nodding to Lu Han, some of them not even bothering to hide their glares. Soon almost everyone is gone, leaving only Yixing, and Tao, who is still huddled in the corner with his face in his hands.  
  
Yixing gets to his feet, comes over and puts his hand on Lu Han’s shoulder. “If this is what’s best for you,” he starts.  
  
“It is,” says Lu Han.  
  
Yixing nods. “Then I support you.”  
  
He and Lu Han embrace. When they draw apart, Yixing looks at Minseok as though he’s going to say something else, but he seems to decide against it, and turns for the door. “Come on, Tao, let’s go,” he says gently.  
  
Tao gets brokenly to his feet, and comes over to hug Lu Han and cry all over his shirt. He tries to speak when he pulls away, but instead he chokes on a sob and rushes out. Yixing gives Lu Han and Minseok a look, then follows Tao out of the dressing room, closing the door gently behind him.  
  
Lu Han and Minseok are left alone.  
  
Lu Han sighs, an ancient sigh that sounds entirely wrong coming from his youthful face, and sinks down into his chair again. There’s still five minutes or so before they have to get back to the rehearsal. They’re silent for a while, sitting close together.  
  
“Is this really what you want?” Minseok asks eventually.  
  
“Yes,” Lu Han says, but Minseok can hear the uncertainty in his voice.  
  
“I think so,” Lu Han adds a second later, and Minseok nods. He rests his hand on Lu Han’s thigh, reassuring.  
  
“I don’t know how much longer I could keep going,” Lu Han says. “If I stayed.”  
  
“I know,” Minseok replies. He doesn’t need reminding of how sick Lu Han has been: how he could barely stand on stage, how his fingers shook when he lifted anything heavier than a pair of chopsticks.  
  
“And,” Lu Han says, “My parents —”  
  
Minseok nods. He understands, of course he understands, that Lu Han’s parents must have been shocked at the state he was in when he arrived home. Minseok himself would still sometimes feel shocked when he noticed how thin Lu Han had become, and he was seeing Lu Han almost every day. His own parents would feel the same way, Minseok thinks, if it was him. Besides, he knows how it’s even more important for Lu Han to be a good son than it is for him, as Lu Han is his parents’ only child.  
  
“You should do what’s the best for you and your family,” Minseok says. Lu Han nods. They fall silent again.  
  
“What are you going to do?” Minseok asks eventually. “Instead of this.”  
  
Lu Han looks uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” he says. “I get — offers, you know — all the time, so I guess I’ll —”  
  
“Like Yifan?”  
  
Lu Han sighs. “Yes.” He looks at Minseok anxiously. “Are you —?”  
  
“I’m not angry,” Minseok says. He squeezes Lu Han’s thigh. He really isn’t angry; if anything, a part of him is relieved. He’s been worried about Lu Han, seriously worried that something bad might happen to his friend if he didn’t get a proper break soon. Lu Han already looks better even after only being away a few weeks: if he could be in control of his own schedule all the time, it really would be the best thing for him. And Minseok has only ever wanted what’s best for Lu Han.  
  
Anyway, Lu Han is already a star in China. Minseok knows he’ll be just fine.  
  
Lu Han is still looking at him, his doe eyes very large in his thin face. Minseok gives him a small smile. “I’ll miss you, though,” he says. He says it as though it’s a platitude, not letting himself think about what it really means — because if he does, he might break down, and he has to be strong for Lu Han, who’s still struggling so much.  
  
“I’ll miss you too,” Lu Han says. His voice sounds reedy.  
  
Minseok leans his head against Lu Han’s shoulder, and Lu Han rests his head on the top of Minseok’s.  
  
“I love you,” Lu Han says, after a few moments.  
  
“I love you too,” Minseok says, easily but meaning it deeply, because he does love Lu Han, not only as a man, but also as a friend. Lu Han is the best friend he’s ever had, and he knows he’s one of Lu Han’s best friends too.  
  
Lu Han shifts against him uncomfortably. His bony shoulder digs into Minseok’s cheek. “No, Minseok, I —”  
  
Lu Han is pulling away from him. Minseok sits up too, a little confused. Lu Han swallows (his neck is so thin that Minseok can see it, clearly) and then says, “No, Minseok, I mean I — I mean —”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I mean I — I _love_ you, love you. Not just as a friend, I — I mean I love you.” Lu Han hesitates, then surges on: “I know you don’t like guys so I don’t expect — and I mean I don’t want to ruin anything but if I didn’t tell you I never would and I —”  
  
Minseok gets up and leaves the room, slamming the door.

 

Minseok bites the insides of his cheeks hard enough to draw blood to get through the afternoon rehearsals.  
  
His head is spinning enough that he misses steps in the choreography, and he even has to sit down a few times. Fortunately nobody notices anything amiss, because everybody’s exhausted and struggling anyway.  
  
Lu Han keeps sending him frantic, wounded looks, but Minseok can’t even bring himself to acknowledge the other boy.  
  
_Why now_ , he thinks. _Why now, you bastard, everything after, why now?_

 

 

It’s awkward during the concert.  
  
Minseok is able to pretend, for most of it, because that’s what he does. He puts his game face on and pretends harder than hard that everything is fine. But when he and Lu Han have to act their kiss, for a second the mask slips. Lu Han is so close, close enough for Minseok to see every detail of his face, close enough that Minseok can’t avoid his eyes.  
  
Lu Han tries to hang on, after Minseok pulls away from their forced embrace, his hands clinging to Minseok’s stage outfit. Minseok manages to wriggle away, darting behind Kyungsoo to escape. When he glances back across the stage, he sees Lu Han looking bereft, just for a second, and just for a second Minseok’s heart clenches. But he can’t, he thinks, he can’t; not when there’s nothing left for them; not when they’re almost out of time.  
  
Minseok sleeps fitfully that night.

 

Even as a trainee, Minseok had dealt, in secret, with the way his stomach would start to flutter when Lu Han smiled at him, the way his skin tingled when Lu Han put his arm around his shoulder.  
  
He’d realised (slowly, like peeling off a band-aid) that he was getting out of bed looking forward to even the hardest of their training, because going to training meant he got to see Lu Han. That he’d never felt anything like this about any of the girls he’d thought he’d liked in the past: never cared as much about making them smile or laugh; never longed for their company when they were away; never ached so much when they were unhappy.  
  
One time, he and Lu Han went to a bath house together, and Minseok had barely dared to look at his friend for more than a few seconds at a time in case he couldn’t control himself. He’d felt sick afterwards, that he’d been thinking like that, when Lu Han was only there innocently, to bathe. It didn’t stop the images creeping into his head for days afterwards: Lu Han with his hair damp and his face flushed, his long legs and his slim hips.  
  
He’d dealt with the day that Lu Han sat him down down and told him, almost tearfully, that he liked guys. Minseok had been kind, understanding, a supportive friend. He’d listened to Lu Han’s stories about how he’d experimented during his time as an exchange student in Seoul, never letting anything but friendly concern or interest show on his face. He’d defended Lu Han, when it started to get out to the other trainees. “Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he likes every guy in the world,” he’d said, to some of the others who’d asked him how he wasn’t afraid to be friends with Lu Han. “Do you like every girl in the world, huh?”  
  
Eventually he’d accepted it: that he liked Lu Han as a guy, the same way Lu Han liked other guys. And he forced himself to accept that Lu Han might like guys but he didn’t like Minseok that way. He was good at it, stubborn, with strong willpower. Just like he was good at pushing his body to dance even when he felt like all the energy had been drained out of him; like he was good at smiling on stage no matter how he felt inside; good at making himself go just another few hours, another day, without eating.  
  
But now Lu Han had smashed through all of Minseok’s carefully sculpted defences with his big thoughtless mouth and just a few words: “I love you, love you. Not just as a friend, I mean I love you.”  
  
And weren’t those the very words Minseok used to dream of hearing, back long ago before he’d accepted that Lu Han wouldn’t ever feel the same as he did?  
  
Lu Han is telling the truth, he knows. Lu Han is way too simple, too honest in his feelings, to say something like that unless he truly means it.  
  
For how long, Minseok wonders, has Lu Han felt that way? Was it something new? Or had it been a long time, a long time when Minseok could have had (he can hardly even think it) all the things he’d trained himself never to hope for?  
  
And why is Lu Han telling him now, in the very days before he’s intending to leave behind the group, and Minseok, for good?  
  
Lu Han knows as well as Minseok does what happens to people who leave their company. They become unmentionables, practically erased from history. It will be frowned upon even for Minseok to speak to Lu Han in his personal time, and if he’s ever publicly found to be contacting Lu Han or, God forbid, meeting with him, there will be hell to pay. And in any case, Lu Han is going to be in China, and Minseok will be in Korea or anywhere else in the world, far far away from Lu Han.  
  
_Nothing._ They can have nothing, there can be nothing between them. And Minseok hasn’t even been allowed to keep his walls and his defences. Lu Han has broken them all down and left Minseok with only a dizzying _what if?_

 

He manages to avoid Lu Han, and everyone else, for most of the second day. Lu Han seems to have accepted it by now, and to be avoiding Minseok himself, because he barely sees the other boy.  
  
It’s not until the evening, after they’ve had their make-up done for the final show, that Yixing corners Minseok in the dressing room. Jongdae is with him, standing just behind Yixing like an extra warning that Minseok can’t escape.  
  
Minseok tries to push past anyway, but Yixing grabs his arm.  
  
“Lu Han’s devastated,” he says, with no introduction.  
  
“He told you?” Minseok hisses, not even really caring if Yixing knows but grasping at anything he can use to be angry with Lu Han.  
  
“Of course he did,” Yixing says, and Jongdae nods behind him.  
  
“You too?”  
  
“Minseok, the guy’s a mess,” Jongdae says.  
  
“He’s a complete wreck,” Yixing says. “He thinks he’s ruined everything between you two.”  
  
In spite of everything, Minseok’s chest catches, at the thought of Lu Han hurting.  
  
“Two minutes!” yells a manager, throwing open the dressing room door and starting to wave the members through it.  
  
“He hasn’t,” Minseok says helplessly to Yixing. “Ruined everything, I mean. I just —”  
  
“One minute!” The manager is gesturing towards the three of them, more aggressively.  
  
“Please just sort it out with him?” Yixing says. “Don’t let him leave like this.”  
  
The words hit Minseok like a knife in the chest. Before he can answer, the manager comes up behind them and grabs Jongdae to drag him out of the dressing room. Yixing and Minseok hurry after them, scurrying through the dark, narrow hallways. The howls of the fans hit them as they reach the edge of the stage.  
  
“Thirty seconds,” hisses the manager, and rushes off.  
  
The screams from the stadium get louder.  
  
Lu Han is there, of course, just like all the others, a make-up artist adding more blush to his cheeks to try and conceal his pallor. When he sees Minseok looking at him, he shakes his head at her, breaks away and hurries over.  
  
“I’m _sorry_ ,” he whispers miserably. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I don’t expect anything, I’m so —”  
  
“Lu Han,” Minseok says quietly. He doesn’t know what to say, how to start. He reaches out and grips Lu Han’s hand.  
  
Lu Han looks down at their tangled fingers, and then up at Minseok’s face. His mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ of understanding.  
  
“Minseok,” he breathes — and then they’re being herded out onto the stage.

 

After the show, in his hotel room, Minseok busies himself with packing his things, ready to leave the next day.  
  
He’s become remarkably adept at travelling these days, he thinks absently, as he rolls his shirts up carefully so they take up less space in his suitcase.  
  
He hasn’t had another chance to speak to Lu Han, and he doesn’t know now if he’ll get one. On stage, they were as they always were again, with none of the previous night’s awkwardness; it was as though nothing was different at all. They’d left the venue quickly after the show, and he and Lu Han had ended up travelling in separate cars, without really meaning to. Then they’d all been shepherded to their rooms, and now, even though it’s so late, the managers will still be around, keeping an eye on the floor of the hotel room that the group and all their staff have taken over.  
  
Despite all this, when Minseok hears a soft tap on the door, he doesn’t actually feel very surprised. Of course, he thinks, Lu Han would find a way to come to him.  
  
He doesn’t have even a second of doubt that the person knocking is Lu Han.  
  
He opens the door, and Lu Han is standing there, still in his stage make-up, looking at Minseok like he’s never seen him before. His hands come up to frame Minseok’s face, and then Lu Han is kissing him.  
  
It’s so sudden that Minseok barely has time to drag Lu Han into the room and kick the door closed behind them before Lu Han’s tongue is slipping into his mouth.  
  
Minseok kisses back, of course. His defences against Lu Han are still in ruins, and he feels so, so terribly weak.  
  
They stumble back across the room until Minseok feels his legs hit the edge of the bed, and then they’re tumbling down together onto the mattress. Lu Han’s thin body covers Minseok’s, and he kisses Minseok deeply, so deeply it aches.  
  
Minseok doesn’t resist any more. He can’t. Instead, he pours everything he has into the kiss, into Lu Han’s mouth. Lu Han slips his arms around Minseok’s waist, and he takes it all.  
  
Eventually, however, when they’ve used up all the breath they have and Lu Han has to pull away, panting, Minseok asks, “How long?”  
  
“What?” Lu Han blinks at him, eyeliner smudged around big, damp eyes. His ebony black hair is already sticking to his face, and there’s bb cream smeared across his top lip. He’s beautiful, Minseok thinks.  
  
“How long?” Minseok repeats, because he just needs to know. “How long have you —”  
  
“Oh.” Lu Han seems to understand, and he ducks his head, almost smiling. “Really… practically ever since we met.”  
  
“You’re joking.”  
  
“No. Why do you think I used to stare at you during dance practise?”  
  
Minseok remembers that. He remembers being slightly unnerved by it. He remembers Lu Han explaining to him that he was just admiring Minseok’s dancing, how he made it look so easy.  
“Fuck,” Minseok breathes, and Lu Han kisses him again.  
  
In the back of Minseok’s mind, there’s a warning — _it’s too late, too late for you to have anything_ — but Minseok is too tired, too reckless, to listen to it any more.  
  
He pulls Lu Han closer, roughly, hands fisting in the thin material of Lu Han’s shirt. (He can feel the bones in Lu Han’s back against his fingers.) He wraps his legs around Lu Han’s waist without thinking. He wants only to be close, as close as they can be without melting their bodies into one another, without devouring Lu Han entirely. But as Lu Han drags his lips away to mouth clumsily at Minseok’s neck, Minseok realises he’s very rapidly getting hard, and he can feel against his leg that Lu Han is too.  
  
They start rocking together, the grip of Minseok’s thighs pulling Lu Han’s waist into a slow, filthy rhythm. It’s pure instinct, almost animal. Lu Han’s lips find Minseok’s again, as though that’s instinctive too, and they grind against each other, groaning into each other’s mouths.  
  
“Fuck, Minseokkie…” Lu Han pants.  
  
“Hannie…”  
  
Minseok is surrounded by Lu Han: Lu Han’s scent, the heat of his body, his mouth. He can feel the outline of Lu Han’s cock, hard and rubbing against his own, sending pleasure shooting up his spine. He drags his hands up Lu Han’s back, under his shirt, feeling the skin there blazing hot. He wants even more, even closer — he feels nothing except pure, molten want. It overflows and spills out of his mouth: “Hannie — Hannie, fuck me.”  
  
Lu Han freezes, and pulls away, his eyes bigger than ever with shock. “You — Minseokkie? You want me to — what?”  
  
Minseok hadn’t even realise he was going to speak out loud, but he doesn’t have any desire to take back what he said. He can still feel where Lu Han is hard, rock hard, right next to his own cock. He thinks, somewhere in the small part of his mind that’s still capable of thoughts, of all the nights he used to wake up from dreams about Lu Han, the inside of his sleep pants damp and sticky. The time, after hearing yet another one of Lu Han’s stories about his hook-ups with guys during university, that he’d tried touching himself between his thighs; he only managed to get the tip of one finger inside himself, but it was enough to make him come, to make him burn with want. He’s burning now.  
  
“Fuck me,” he says again. He feels oddly calm about it, utterly sure and secure in his desire.  
  
Lu Han jabbers frantically from the bed as Minseok gets up and fetches the lotion he carries with him from his suitcase: “Minseok, are you sure — are you sure you want — we don’t have to, I mean — we can — whatever you want, I —”  
  
“No,” Minseok says decisively, sitting back onto the bed and slipping the lube into Lu Han’s hand, “I want to.”

Again he thinks he hears a warning in the back of his head, that this is a step he can’t ever take back, a kind of intimacy that will surely hurt once Lu Han is gone, but he’s far gone enough to ignore it entirely.  
  
Lu Han just stares at him for a few moments, then at the lube, then back at Minseok. “Oh my God, Minseok,” he says eventually, “Oh my God.”  
  
Minseok pulls him in again, and they blend back together, as though they’ve been meant to their entire lives. Minseok tugs at Lu Han’s shirt, and Lu Han’s hands come away from where they’re resting at Minseok’s hips to help him. Minseok shimmies out of his pants, suddenly needing to have this as soon as he can. Lu Han’s eyes widen, and he reaches out to grip one of Minseok’s thighs.  
  
Lu Han is the one with the experience, but he’s so nervous, his hands shaking enough that he drops the lube several times before he even manages to get any on his fingers. Minseok has to take charge. He grabs one of the pillows and lays back over it, using it to prop up his hips.  
  
Lu Han stares at him. “I thought you’d never —”  
  
“I haven’t.”  
  
“Then how did you know to —?”  
  
“You told me,” Minseok says, slightly embarrassed at the detail he’d remembered Lu Han’s hook-up stories in. “You said — makes it easier —”  
  
“Oh my God,” Lu Han says again, staring like he can’t believe Minseok is real.  
  
He goes too quickly at first, trying to prod a finger in right up to the second knuckle, and Minseok hisses and winces. Lu Han leaps away like he’s touched a live wire: “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!”  
  
He’s more gentle after that, calmer. He trickles the lubricant over Minseok’s entrance and massages around his rim, relaxing him and opening him up slowly with just the tip of a finger first before finally sliding one inside.  
  
It makes Minseok frantic, makes him needy, as though his skin might burst. When that finger finally goes inside, he can’t help throwing back his head, his groan sounding very loud in the quiet hotel room.  
  
“Are you okay?” Lu Han’s voice is shrill.  
  
“More,” Minseok says, weakly, and Lu Han curses again and pulls the finger right out. Minseok thinks he’s gotten cold feet, but then he feels more lube between his thighs and the brush of two fingers now. He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, biting his lips, part of him wondering if this is a mistake because it feels so huge and overwhelming. When Lu Han starts to open him up with two fingers, however, all thoughts go out of his head except the need to be touched.  
  
Lu Han gets up to three fingers, and it aches, an ache that pushes in Minseok’s insides and is desperate to have something push back against it. Minseok thinks he’s more than ready, but he barely gets the chance to register the head of Lu Han’s cock at his entrance before there’s a splitting pain and he spasms away, cursing.  
  
“I’m sorry!” Lu Han yelps.  
  
“Jesus,” Minseok pants, trying to catch his breath. That hurt a lot more than he’d expected it to hurt.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Lu Han babbles, “I’m so sorry, I thought you were, I’m sorry —” He grips one of Minseok’s hands, wringing it in his distress, covering Minseok’s own fingers in the sticky lubricant.  
  
“It’s okay,” Minseok says faintly. “I just — wasn’t ready.”  
  
“I really thought —”  
  
“It’s okay,” Minseok insists. He rolls back over to look up at Lu Han, who is staring down at him with something like alarm in his eyes.  
  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lu Han asks. “We don’t have to, really, if you — or I can —”  
  
“No, I —” Minseok hesitates, not sure if he should confess that he’d fantasised about this for a long time, but Lu Han looks so upset that he wants to console him: “I’ve… thought about this… before.”  
  
Lu Han gapes at him, his jaw unhinging in a way that Minseok would tease him for in any other situation. “You — you really —”  
  
Minseok nods.  
  
Lu Han groans, pushing his damp bangs out of his face — and then he swears loudly, remembering his hands are covered in lube.  
  
Minseok starts laughing, hard enough to make his whole body shake. Lu Han protests and slaps him on the thigh, but Minseok can’t stop. Suddenly this just feels so familiar, so them.  
Minseok laughs for long enough that Lu Han starts laughing too, still trying to glare at him but failing. Minseok reaches out and takes Lu Han’s hand again, sits up and brings Lu Han’s knuckles to his lips.  
  
“Minseok,” Lu Han says softly, the laughter dying away.  
  
Minseok draws him closer and kisses him, soft, tender.  
  
“Do you — still want —?” Lu Han asks, and Minseok nods.  
  
Lu Han hesitates. “Maybe — if we —” He gestures at the bed, clearly trying to explain something, but Minseok doesn’t understand so Lu Han tries again: “If you, you know, go — well, on top, then it — it can — it can be easier — I mean, for you —”  
  
“Okay,” Minseok says.  
  
Lu Han sits back against the headboard of the bed, and Minseok straddles his lap. The nerves start to come back like this, being close enough to Lu Han to see all the shades of colour in his irises, the different lengths of his eyelashes.  
  
Lu Han pulls his cock back out of the underwear he’s still wearing, and Minseok swallows as he looks at it. He’s seen Lu Han naked before (he’s seen all his group members naked, whether he had any desire to or not) but never hard, and Lu Han’s cock looks so much bigger, so much thicker, like this. Something throbs inside of Minseok, nervously.  
  
Lu Han grabs the lube again and takes more time opening Minseok up, Minseok hanging tightly onto Lu Han’s shoulder to ground himself. Lu Han keeps opening his mouth as though he wants to speak, and then closing it again.  
  
Finally, Lu Han whispers, “I think — I think you’re —” and tugs at Minseok’s hip.  
  
Minseok can tell: he feels warm now, slick, open. He leans forward over Lu Han, moving on instinct, letting out a tiny breath as he grips Lu Han’s cock to line himself up.  
  
Lu Han’s eyes are darting all over Minseok’s face, and all Minseok can think about is how Lu Han feels in his hand, how hard he is under the silk-soft skin.  
  
He can’t help a soft gasp at the feel of the swollen head against his entrance. He hesitates, for just a fraction of a second, and then, knowing if he waits longer he may lose his nerve, he guides Lu Han inside himself and sinks down.  
  
It’s completely overwhelming, all-consuming. The feeling is so intense it almost hurts, and fills Minseok with the thought that he can’t do it, it’s too much, he can’t take it, stop it stop it stop it — but yet he wants more, more, more. His thighs are shaking with it before he’s even settled into Lu Han’s lap.  
  
When he finally does manage to sit down against Lu Han’s hips, he has to wait for a moment before he can even open his eyes. He almost doesn’t think he’ll be able to pull himself back up, that he’ll ever be able to move again at all, because the ache inside him is so huge.  
  
Eventually he manages to open his eyes, digging his fingernails into Lu Han’s shoulder. Lu Han is gripping Minseok’s hips, and he’s staring at Minseok the way a person might stare at the sunrise, dazzled and awed. Again he looks like he wants to speak; again, he takes a few moments to find the words.  
  
“… are you —?” Lu Han’s voice, when it finally comes out, is scarcely more than a breath. “Are you —?”  
  
Minseok nods. The ache inside him isn’t less now, but the desire to stay still, to not risk aggravating it, is rapidly becoming replaced by the desire to push the feeling even further.  
He lifts himself up and drops back down, only a little, but even the small movement makes Lu Han slide even deeper, and they both cry out.  
  
Minseok does it again, and Lu Han starts to push up into him, the movements irregular and nervous at first but soon establishing a steady, if slightly frantic, rhythm. Lu Han’s hold on Minseok’s hips tightens, hard enough to bruise.  
  
“Oh fuck — Minseok — _fuck_ —”  
  
Minseok’s ears are ringing, louder than they do after a concert. The pleasure is so different from the pleasure of any sex he’s had before, spreading throughout his whole body. He feels like a still body of water that’s been stirred up, waves of feeling rushing down all of his nerves from where Lu Han’s inside him.  
  
Underneath, on top of, alongside the intense physical feelings, he feels love — so much love for the gasping, shaking mess of a boy sitting underneath him, looking up at him with wondering doe-eyes through sweat-soaked hair. He kisses Lu Han, hard enough to feel Lu Han’s teeth, because the emotions threaten to rise up his throat and choke him.  
  
Lu Han whines into the kiss, and Minseok feels him tremble and tense up. A second later he feels the warmth and wetness of Lu Han’s orgasm. It makes him shudder.  
  
Lu Han clings to Minseok as he comes down, burying his face in Minseok’s shoulder. Minseok tries to soothe him, tries not to rush him, although he himself still feels desperate, somehow even more turned on after feeling Lu Han come inside of him.  
  
Eventually Lu Han lifts his head, looking at Minseok with bleary eyes. “Oh, shit,” he says faintly. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”  
  
“It’s okay, it’s okay, just —” Minseok is still on edge, unable to stop himself clenching on Lu Han’s softening cock.  
  
Lu Han curses and pulls out clumsily. Minseok almost whimpers at the loss, but Lu Han immediately shoves three fingers inside him so he’s filled up again, and he moans instead. Lu Han grips Minseok’s cock with a newfound confidence and starts jerking him off, and Minseok comes after only a few strokes, all over Lu Han’s chest and stomach, shaking in Lu Han’s lap.  
When it’s finally over, he drops forward against Lu Han, weakly wrapping his arms around Lu Han’s waist, and Lu Han pulls Minseok in and holds him closer than close.  
  
They stay in each other’s arms for a long time, long enough that it starts to feel as though they’re melting into one another. Minseok can feel every quiver of Lu Han’s body as though it’s his own; can feel Lu Han’s heart beating against his ribs, as though it’s his own heartbeat.  
  
The realisation comes, yet again, that this is Lu Han, Lu Han, his best friend and the person he trained himself never to hope would be anything more than a friend. And yet, unbelievably, here they are now. And yet —  
  
For a moment, the reality of the outside world pushes against the stillness surrounding them and threatens to break through.  
  
Lu Han must feel Minseok shifting nervously in his lap, because he very gently pulls back so he can look up into Minseok’s face. Their eyes meet and Lu Han just smiles, so big that it makes the skin under his eyes crease and scrunch up. He looks happier than Minseok has seen him in a long time, maybe happier than Minseok’s ever seen him.  
  
“Okay?” Lu Han says, his voice butterfly-soft, as though he’s handling something immeasurably precious and doesn’t want to break it.  
  
Minseok forces the outside world away, making himself focus on right now, on this very second.  
  
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”  
  
He kisses Lu Han chastely. Lu Han nuzzles against his nose when he draws away.  
  
“I’m sorry, about —” Lu Han starts after a while, then breaks off. “I didn’t mean to, I just —”  
  
“It’s really okay,” Minseok says, fondly. He strokes his hands over Lu Han’s hair, smoothing it down, brushing the bangs out of Lu Han’s face. After a moment he adds, gently teasing, “Really I’m rather flattered.”  
  
“You —” Lu Han doesn’t even pretend to be angry; his smile just gets even bigger. He kisses Minseok again.  
  
“We didn’t use anything,” Lu Han says, after another long moment.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“We didn’t use any — any protection.”  
  
“Oh.” Minseok hadn’t even thought about it. It isn’t as though he carries condoms with him when they travel, or even really makes a point to keep them at home in the dorm; he doesn’t have the time, let alone the freedom, for sex.  
  
“I mean, I’m clean,” Lu Han says, “So, I guess, if you don’t mind then —”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Minseok says. He likes it, actually, that they got to be as close as they could be. “I’m clean too.”  
  
Lu Han nods. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”  
  
“Sure,” Minseok tells him, and kisses him.  
  
In the back of his mind, he’s starting to become aware of the unpleasant stickiness between them, and the cool air of the hotel room making his skin prickle into gooseflesh where his sweat is drying. “We should clean up,” he says.  
  
Lu Han pouts, but then nods. “Yeah. I really need a shower. I didn’t even — before I —”  
  
Reluctantly, Minseok pulls himself off Lu Han’s lap. “Your make-up is all over your face,” he tells the other boy.  
  
Lu Han looks at him, and then he laughs. “On yours as well,” he says, and rubs at Minseok’s cheek with the back of his hand, trying to get it off.  
  
Minseok gets off the bed, and Lu Han holds out his hand, asking Minseok to pull him up. Minseok rolls his eyes, but does so, and Lu Han slides off the mattress. They walk hand in hand to the bathroom.  
  
“Shower with me,” Lu Han says.  
  
Minseok nods.  
  
Lu Han steps into the shower first, turning it on and yelping and shivering like a puppy when the water that comes out is initially cold. Minseok follows him, pulling the large glass door closed behind them. It’s only once he’s under the water that he realises he’s still wearing his t-shirt. He leaves it on.  
  
The shower is big, but they still have to stand close together. Lu Han turns the taps until the water raining down on them is hot and soothing on their tired bodies. Minseok wraps his arms around Lu Han’s body, holds him and rubs his back until Lu Han feels completely warm again.  
  
When they’re both warmed up, Minseok reaches for the shower gel on the small shelf in the corner.  
  
“Take this off,” Lu Han says, hands plucking at the hem of Minseok’s t-shirt.  
  
Minseok hesitates, just for a second. It isn’t that he still worries so much about his body these days — he doesn’t check his weight every morning any more; he hardly even adds up the calories in everything he eats now — and this is only Lu Han — Lu Han, who just made love to him and made Minseok fall even more in love with him — but—  
  
Lu Han is looking at him. His eyes are suddenly sad.  
  
“You’re gorgeous,” he says softly.  
  
Minseok tries to shrug, like he wasn’t even worrying, but he doesn’t quite manage it.  
  
Lu Han pulls Minseok against him then, swiftly enough to take Minseok’s breath away. He reaches for the hem of Minseok’s t-shirt and peels it up his chest and over his shoulders. Minseok almost thinks to fight him off, but Lu Han is just — looking at him, through the water getting into their eyes, and so instead he raises his arms obediently and lets Lu Han pull the t-shirt over his head.  
  
“You’re perfect,” Lu Han says, reverently. He drops the sodden t-shirt to the shower floor.  
  
Lu Han takes for the shower gel and pours some out into his hand, filling the shower with the smell of sandalwood. He reaches for Minseok and starts soaping his arms.  
  
Again Minseok almost thinks he should protest. Lu Han is the one who has been suffering so much recently; he’s the one who deserves to be taken care of. And hasn’t Minseok always wanted to take care of Lu Han, to support him? But Lu Han is still looking at him almost the way a worshipper might look at a holy relic, and he lifts Minseok’s hand up to his lips to kiss. “Gorgeous,” he says again.  
  
Minseok feels something sting in the back of his throat.  
  
Lu Han washes him slowly, down his chest and then his back, lathering the shower gel and then guiding the water from the shower over Minseok’s skin with his hands to wash the suds away. He follows the water with kisses.  
  
He washes Minseok’s legs, carefully lifting them up one by one and bending over so he can even reach Minseok’s feet. He washes between Minseok’s thighs as well, where Minseok is still stretched and open from their sex earlier, and his crotch, handling Minseok’s soft cock very carefully.  
  
When he’s finished, Minseok takes the bottle of shower gel from Lu Han’s hand. “Let me,” he says, and Lu Han nods.  
  
Minseok tries not to notice how he can see the blue veins in Lu Han’s arms, and the ribs and collarbones that almost seem like they could split through the paper-thin skin of Lu Han’s chest. He gets down on his knees to wash Lu Han’s legs and feet, like a servant would, not wanting Lu Han to have to try to balance on one leg when he’s been so weak. He doesn’t mind; he wants to treat Lu Han the way he deserves to be treated, after everything he’s suffered under the company.  
  
Lu Han watches Minseok the entire time, his eyes dark in his face. By the time Minseok is finished, Lu Han is half-hard, and Minseok, still on his knees, wraps one hand around the base of Lu Han’s cock, curiously.  
  
Lu Han hisses a breath. “You don’t have to —”  
  
“I want to,” Minseok says, and licks the head of Lu Han’s cock, making Lu Han gasp.  
  
He takes Lu Han’s cock into his mouth, as much as he can. It’s bigger than he’d expected, but he likes it: the weight on his tongue, the width of it filling up his mouth. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he tries to remember what the girls he’s hooked up with had done to him, sucking gently and teasing with his tongue.  
  
It seems to work, because very quickly Lu Han’s hips start twitching relentlessly as he fights to keep from thrusting forwards, and he’s gripping Minseok’s hair with one hand. Minseok is getting hard again himself, just at the feeling of Lu Han in his mouth and the thought that he’s making Lu Han feel good. He sucks in as much of Lu Han’s cock as he can, swallowing around it.  
  
Lu Han curses, and then he’s pulling away, grabbing Minseok’s shoulders and hauling him to his feet. He presses Minseok against the wall of the shower, grinding their cocks together, his tongue sliding hotly into Minseok’s mouth.  
  
“I want you,” Lu Han says lowly, and Minseok nods, wanting it too even so soon after the last time.  
  
They turn off the shower and stumble out, towelling themselves dry hastily. Lu Han is much more confident now; he crowds Minseok out of the bathroom and onto the bed, just forceful enough that his strength makes Minseok’s head spin a little.  
  
Minseok comes to rest on his back on the mattress and he reaches for Lu Han, but Lu Han is shaking his head, his hands on Minseok’s shoulders. “Turn over,” he says.  
  
“Why —?”  
  
Lu Han rolls Minseok over onto his stomach and kneels behind him. “I’ve wanted to do this for — for ages,” he says, hoarsely, and then he spreads Minseok open and licks over his entrance, wetly.  
  
“Fuck!” Minseok yelps, catching hold of the pillows.  
  
Lu Han bobs back up again. “Are you —?”  
  
“Yes, fuck; yes,” Minseok manages to say, and then Lu Han’s tongue is back at his hole, slower this time, teasing the sensitive rim.  
  
It’s not something Minseok ever imagined he would want to do, but it feels so good, better than Minseok could have ever imagined it would. Lu Han’s tongue is hot and slick, and he’s obviously done this before — he alternates between slipping his tongue inside and licking and sucking softly at the rim.  
  
Minseok digs his teeth into one of the pillows, not trusting himself otherwise — he might cry out so loudly that everyone on the corridor would hear. It strikes him, somewhere in the small part of his mind that can think straight, that maybe he should feel self-conscious about this, but instead he feels completely safe.  
  
Lu Han carries on just long enough that Minseok thinks he might lose his mind, until he has to risk pulling his mouth away from the pillows because he needs to beg — “Lu Han, Hannie, please, fuck me, fuck —”  
  
Lu Han groans, hard enough that Minseok feels the sound. He pulls away with one last kiss to the very tip of Minseok’s spine, and Minseok cranes his neck around to see Lu Han grabbing the lube from where they left it on the mattress and opening it.  
  
“Come on,” he urges, feeling terribly empty, clenching on nothing.  
  
“Fuck, okay, okay.” Lu Han shoves two fingers inside Minseok, scissoring them quickly, even though Minseok is sure he must be open enough. Lu Han doesn’t take too long though, and after only a few seconds he’s pulling the fingers out. When Minseok looks round again, he’s slicking up his own cock and lining himself up.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
“Yes, yes, oh my —” Minseok breaks off because Lu Han slides inside of him. It’s that much easier after the first time, Minseok relaxed and slick enough for Lu Han to enter him with one long, delicious thrust.  
  
Minseok buries his face back in the pillows again, just feeling. The shape of Lu Han inside him, how big he is, how thick; the flared head of his cock snug against Minseok’s prostate, the warm smooth skin and the veins down his length.  
  
Lu Han stays still, as though he can’t bare to move yet either. “You feel so good,” he half-sighs, his hands stroking down Minseok’s sides.  
  
It lasts much longer this time. Lu Han fucks Minseok in strong, deep strokes, with much more self-control this time. Minseok pushes back against every thrust like each one could be the last.  
  
When it’s over, they cuddle up together on the bed, not really speaking. In spite of how talkative Lu Han usually is, they’ve never needed words between the two of them. They explore each other’s bodies with slow, curious hands, mapping and memorising. Minseok finds every patch of smoother or rougher skin, every knot of muscle, every birthmark, on Lu Han’s body. He lets Lu Han explore him too, even the places he’s worried over for hours in the mirror: his thighs, his forearms, the apples of his cheeks.  
  
Lu Han calls him “baozi”, and Minseok calls Lu Han “Lu-ge” in return, and steals a kiss.  
  
They make love again later, the other way round this time, Lu Han’s eyes each looking as huge as the moon in his face as Minseok carefully pushes inside him.  
  
Minseok has never felt anything like it, like Lu Han. They rock together unhurriedly, pressed so close they have to breathe in unison, passing kisses and moans back and forth between each other’s mouths.  
  
Minseok’s head is hazy when they’re done, a combination of exhaustion and endorphins and love. He’s tired enough to lie down properly on the mattress, and Lu Han pulls the blankets around them, settling against Minseok with his head tucked into the crook of Minseok’s neck. They don’t speak, instead just watching the blinking green, blue, gold lights of the Beijing skyscrapers though the window.  
  
“I love this city,” Lu Han says eventually. “Home,” he adds, against Minseok’s collar bone. “I’ll miss Seoul, though…”  
  
Minseok strokes Lu Han’s head. _Don’t do this,_ he thinks, _not now_.  
  
“I’ll still visit.” Lu Han’s voice trails off tiredly. Minseok isn’t even sure if Lu Han is talking about visiting Seoul or visiting him. Lu Han can still be surprisingly naive, he thinks, even after all they’ve been through, but there’s no point in arguing or trying to tell him that it probably can’t work that way.  
  
Minseok doesn’t want to fall asleep; all he wants is to spend this entire night with Lu Han. Even as Lu Han himself starts breathing evenly and goes heavy against Minseok, Minseok wants to stay awake. But he’s tired, so tired, and the aches of the oppressive schedule are starting to creep back into his body. What with the warmth of both the blanket and Lu Han lying half on top of him, and the steady rhythm of Lu Han’s breathing, he drops off too.  
  
He wakes what can only be a few hours later, but the sky outside the window is already turning grey. Morning is coming, and a cold dread settles into Minseok’s heart.  
  
Lu Han is still asleep, and Minseok lets him stay that way for as long as possible, partly because he knows Lu Han needs all the sleep he can get these days, and partly because somehow that way it’s easier to pretend. Easier to pretend they have more nights, more days, stretching out ahead of them. Easier to pretend there’s nothing beyond this that’s important; that all that matters is the boy he loves, soft and heavy with sleep in his arms.  
  
When Lu Han wakes up they don’t talk about it. Minseok finally has to look at the time, reluctantly acknowledging there’s a schedule he has to keep to, a schedule that will call him away.  
  
“When did the managers say to be ready to leave for the airport?” Lu Han asks, as though it still applies to him too.  
  
“Eight am,” Minseok says weakly. “It’s already nearly seven,” he adds, showing Lu Han the time on his phone.  
  
Lu Han nods. His face is blank, probably deliberately so. “We should get up,” he says.  
  
Minseok doesn’t know what time Lu Han is planning to leave the hotel, or where he’s going. He doesn’t want to ask.  
  
They shower together again, helping each other to shampoo their hair and wash their bodies as though it’s a habit. All of Lu Han’s things are in his own hotel room, so he shares Minseok’s toothbrush and face wash, Minseok automatically passing them over when he’s finished with them himself.  
  
Minseok dresses, but all Lu Han has to wear is the dirty stage outfit from last night. He wraps himself in a hotel bathrobe instead.  
  
“I should — get back to my room, get some clothes — pack —” Lu Han’s voice tails off.  
  
Minseok is concentrating on the slight flicker in one of the ceiling lights, the way it makes the shadows of everything in the room seem to shimmer. “Okay,” he says.  
  
Lu Han leaves the room, and Minseok tells himself not to panic, that Lu Han’s just going down the hall. He focuses on getting ready to leave, smoothing down his hair and checking his appearance in the mirror. He doesn’t think he looks too bad, considering he’s been up most of the night. He dabs extra bb cream and concealer carefully over the shadows under his eyes. Then he packs up all his remaining things, checking round the room carefully to make sure he hasn’t left anything behind. He takes Lu Han’s stage clothes too; he should give them back to the cordis, he thinks.  
  
By the time he’s finished, it’s nearly ten to eight. Minseok carries his case out of the room and locks it behind him with the key, which he then puts in his pocket to return to the hotel staff.  
  
The corridor outside is a flurry of activity, members and staff hurrying around, making the last minute preparations to leave.  
  
Minseok heads down the corridor, dodging in and out of the hurrying people, to Lu Han’s room. Nobody acknowledges him.  
  
Minseok reaches Lu Han’s room, but the door opens before he’s even raised his hand to knock. It isn’t Lu Han that comes out, however, but Joonmyun, with Lu Han behind him.  
  
Minseok watches as they embrace in the doorway, and Joonmyun turns to leave. He looks older than he really is, his shoulders squared as though he’s carrying a very heavy weight. When he sees Minseok he stops, but he doesn’t look surprised.  
  
“Minseok,” he says.  
  
Minseok just nods awkwardly, not sure what to say.  
  
Joonmyun glances back at Lu Han, who is still hovering in the doorway. Then he pats Minseok gently on the arm and leaves.  
  
Lu Han grabs Minseok immediately, pulling him into the room. Before he knows it, Minseok’s pressed up against the closed door, Lu Han kissing him.  
  
“When are you heading off?” Minseok asks, when they eventually stop kissing. His stomach feels strange, the same feeling of heading downwards very fast.  
  
“After you,” Lu Han says. “I thought I’d let you all get away, wait until most of the fans have gone so I don’t draw attention —” He breaks off and swallows.  
  
“That makes sense,” Minseok says.  
  
Outside, they can hear even more activity, and the thumping of suitcases. One of the manager’s voices is shouting: “Come on, five minutes! Where’s Tao, is he still in his room?”  
  
“Minseok —” Lu Han’s voice catches in his throat and cracks, painfully. Suddenly he looks as though he might cry, and Minseok thinks, _no, you can’t, I won’t be able to walk away if you cry._  
  
“You should do what’s best for you,” Minseok says, remembering what he’d said back in the dressing room, after Lu Han had first told them all he was leaving. “For you and your family.”  
  
Lu Han nods. He still looks like he’s preparing to head for his own execution.  
  
“Minseok!” hollers the manager’s voice outside. “Has anyone seen Minseok?”  
  
“I have to go,” says Minseok, awfully calm.  
  
Lu Han catches him around the waist, crushing their lips together, so hard it hurts. Minseok doesn’t care; he clings to Lu Han as tight as he can, so tight that nobody could separate them.  
  
“Have a good flight,” Lu Han says helplessly, still clinging to Minseok’s hand as Minseok opens the door.  
  
“Call me,” Minseok tells him, half outside the room, “Soon.” He squeezes Lu Han’s hand one last time, and then lets it go.  
  
He grabs his suitcase from where he left it outside the room, hurries down the hallway towards the rest of the members and the staff.  
  
“There you are!” says the manager, and he’s saying more things too, something about them being on a tight schedule, but Minseok isn’t listening.  
  
He doesn’t dare look back to see if Lu Han’s closed the door or whether he’s watching them go. He just follows the other members, falling obediently into step with them as they head to the elevators, as they go down to the lobby, as the managers collect their room keys and they head for the cars outside. He pushes through the excited crowds of fans mechanically and hauls himself into the nearest van. Chanyeol gets in behind him, shouting about something, and then Kyungsoo, who quickly starts arguing back. They fight all the way to the airport, the noise making Minseok’s temples throb. He’s grateful when it’s time to get back out of the vans, to fight back through another crowd of fans to check in, to head through security and then to boarding.  
  
Yixing sits down next to him when they’re on the plane. He tilts his head concernedly, silently asking, “You okay?”  
  
Minseok nods. He feels, all over his body, like the time he had to have a rotten tooth out as a teenager, and he had no feeling in the side of his mouth or his cheek for the rest of the day, as though they weren’t really part of him and were just weird bits of machinery he wasn’t quite sure how to operate.  
  
He stays that way all throughout the flight, barely feeling Yixing’s arm resting against his own in an offer of comfort. He’s numb as they head out of the airport, scarcely noticing the flashes of the fans’ cameras; as they get into more fans and head back to the company building.  
  
They have rehearsals, just rehearsals, as though everything’s ordinary. Minseok runs through everything on auto-pilot. He’s done all these routines so often he knows them all backwards anyway. It’s no different from when Lu Han was on his break, or when he had to be in China for a schedule.  
  
When they’re back at the dorms in the evening, Minseok finally turns his phone back on after switching it off for the morning flight. He's in his room, where he went feigning a headache, semi-protected from the noise of the other members having dinner. The phone lights up almost as soon as it comes back to life — a new message.  
  
Minseok opens it. It’s from Lu Han. _I love you,_ it says.  
  
Finally, at the very end of the day, Minseok cries.

 

Lu Han calls the next evening. His voice is so familiar, so close in Minseok’s ear, but also not quite right, not quite real.  
  
Lu Han cries, and Minseok does too, silently cursing the whole world because he can’t be there to hold Lu Han in his arms.  
  
“I don’t know if I did the right thing,” Lu Han says, sounding like a lost little boy.  
  
For a moment Minseok isn’t sure if Lu Han’s talking about leaving the group, or what they did together on that last night. Then Lu Han says, “I really do feel much better — I’ve even got projects lined up for the next few weeks, stuff the company wouldn’t let me do — maybe I —”  
  
Minseok is quietly relieved that Lu Han isn’t talking about spending the night with him, and then thinks that maybe he shouldn’t be; maybe it was a mistake, because now there’s really no going back, no forgetting. Maybe, even after everything, if he hadn’t answered the door when Lu Han knocked, maybe it would have hurt to part, but they wouldn’t be where they are right now, crying together down the phone, and Minseok wouldn’t feel like his heart is being methodically ripped into shreds. But instead they took the little time they had to fall in love with each other all over again.  
  
Minseok thinks, at the time, he wouldn’t have done anything differently — he isn’t sure he could have — and he thinks the same is true of Lu Han. He isn’t sure if he’d do it differently if he could go back, either. But maybe he should regret it, because now there’s pieces everywhere that have to be picked up, so many pieces, and Minseok doesn’t know how to start gathering them.  
  
“You couldn’t have gone on like you were,” he tells Lu Han, trying to console him. “I was worried about you,” he adds.  
  
Lu Han lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a sob and a cry.  
  
They end the call with promises and “I love you”s, vowing to speak every day, and Minseok goes to bed thinking it’s not enough, wondering how he’ll ever be okay again.

 

He is okay, of course. Even within the week, his shredded up heart, that had felt so stung so freshly during that first phone call, begins to dull and scab over.  
  
At first, the pain comes back each time he speaks to Lu Han. But quite quickly, they're able to speak without one or the other of them dissolving into tears. And then they’re not able to speak every day. Lu Han is beginning projects on his own, things he wanted to do while he was still in the group that the company had forbidden. He’s inundated with offers, as soon as companies start to find out he’s available for work and accepting projects.  
  
Minseok feels proud of him, and pleased that Lu Han’s going to be okay. He’s also relieved Lu Han will be busy — he felt genuinely concerned, after their first phone call when Lu Han had said he wasn’t sure about his decision, that Lu Han might truly regret leaving and spend a long time wishing he hadn’t done it.  
  
Lu Han starts to sound a lot happier, when Minseok does speak to him. He sounds happy, even. He’s only taking projects he wants to do, and he’s able to see his friends from home and spend time with his parents.  
  
Minseok himself is busy, of course. He can barely remember a time that he wasn’t busy. The tour continues, and between that there’s rehearsals, there’s appearances at events; there’s photoshoots and fan signings and interviews and TV spots and CF filmings and airports, always more airports. And when they’re travelling, it’s just like it was when Lu Han took his break. It’s easy enough to pretend he isn’t gone for good, or even not to think about him at all, because Minseok has so little energy that he has to focus all he does have on performing, on posing, on smiling, on just placing one foot in front of the other.  
  
Sometimes he can’t help being a little envious of Lu Han.

 

They’re on the phone, for the first time in over a week because their schedules kept conspiring to keep them from talking, and Lu Han is gushing about some film he’s working on. Minseok can’t remember the title. He kind of wants to tease Lu Han about the idea of him being in a movie, because Lu Han is an atrocious actor, but Lu Han sounds so genuinely excited about it, so Minseok keeps quiet.  
  
Lu Han keeps going on about how much he likes his fellow actors, how well they all get on, and Minseok kind of hates it. He still dreams about the one night he and Lu Han shared. He wonders if Lu Han does too — if he ever dreams about it.  
  
Lu Han starts talking about how he has to rush from the set of the film to shoot a commercial and then go back again, because of scheduling conflicts, and it’s annoying, he says, how hard it is to make everything work.  
  
“It sounds like you’re almost as busy as you used to be,” Minseok says, and Lu Han falls silent on the other end of the phone.  
  
Minseok bites his lip. He didn’t mean that to sound the way it did — he didn’t. But he isn’t quite sure how to take it back.

 

Time passes, and they talk less and less. When they do talk, all Lu Han seems to do is talk about his new life, a life Minseok can’t relate to. All Minseok has to talk about in return is the life Lu Han left behind.  
  
He always knew, Minseok thinks, that there couldn’t be anything between them. That once Lu Han had left it could never be enough. 

Lu Han texts him: “Are you there?” and Minseok even finds himself lying, telling Lu Han he’s busy, because it hurts so much to hear Lu Han’s voice and know he can’t have anything more.

 

Minseok is stubborn. He’s good at pushing his body to dance when he’s drained; at making himself go just another few hours without eating. He’s good at smiling no matter what.  
  
Once, just once, at an award ceremony at the end of the long, long year, Minseok almost doesn’t manage to smile. The group is winning a prize and there are fans cheering, screaming; the other members smiling and thanking their supporters for sticking with them during the difficult times. Minseok is almost surprised to find his eyes stinging with tears, just for a second, but then he’s able to blink them away.

 

It’s January when Yixing corners Minseok during a break from rehearsals for their comeback. “I want to talk to you.”  
  
“What about?” Minseok asks, in between swigs of water.  
  
“Not here,” Yixing says, glancing around.  
  
Minseok shrugs, and they head to the changing rooms. There’s a few trainees in there, but they scuttle out as soon as they see Minseok and Yixing. Minseok feels a bit bad — he remembers doing the same as a trainee, sometimes forgoing showers or even dressing properly — but he doesn’t have much time to think about it before Yixing is gently pressing him down onto one of the benches.  
  
“What is it?” Minseok asks.  
  
Yixing is looking at him with an open, concerned expression on his face. Minseok immediately feels wary. He doesn’t trust that expression. He’s right: “When was the last time you talked to Lu Han hyung?” Yixing asks.  
  
Minseok immediately gets to his feet. “I don’t want to talk about Lu Han —”  
  
“Hyung; hyung, please.” Yixing grabs Minseok’s arms, trying to make him sit down again. He doesn’t manage it, but he prevents Minseok from escaping through the doors of the changing room.  
  
“Yixing,” Minseok says.  
  
“I’m not going to do anything, hyung,” Yixing protests. “I just wanted to say — well — I’ve spoken to Lu Han hyung a few times recently and —”  
  
“How is he?” Minseok asks, a little too eagerly, and then regrets it when Yixing gives him a knowing look.  
  
“He’s well,” Yixing says.  
  
Minseok wants to ask if Lu Han has mentioned him, or asked about him. He manages to stop himself.  
  
“We don’t talk about you, hyung,” Yixing says, as though he guessed what Minseok really wanted to say, “Don’t worry.”  
  
In spite of himself, Minseok feels a stab of disappointment at that. Has Lu Han really not asked about him at all? It’s been nearly two months since they last spoke. Doesn’t Lu Han want to know how he is? But then Yixing says, “He misses you.”  
  
“I thought you said you didn’t talk about —”  
  
“We don’t,” Yixing reassures him, “But I can tell.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“I can just tell. The same way we can tell with you,” Yixing says, unnerving Minseok slightly.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘we’?” he asks. He can believe that Yixing can tell what Minseok, and even Lu Han in another country, are feeling just from having conversations with them; he’s always been weirdly perceptive. He has no idea who else is involved in this, though.  
  
“Me, and Jongdae. And Joonmyun hyung, he —”  
  
“You’ve been talking to Joonmyun about this?” Minseok asks, aghast.  
  
“He talked to me about it, hyung!” Yixing protests. “He’s really worried about you, all of us are! You seem miserable.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I am,” Minseok snaps.  
  
Yixing just looks at him, with such pity that it makes Minseok want to scream. He tries again to push past Yixing and get out of the dressing room, but Yixing grabs him, so in the end Minseok just shoves him away and flops down on one of the benches.  
  
Yixing sits down opposite him, on the bench across the room. They sit in silence for a while.  
  
“What have you told Joonmyun?” Minseok asks eventually. He’s pretty good at guessing what the attitude of most of the members would be if they found out about him and Lu Han — who wouldn’t care, who’d disapprove — but he really has no idea what Joonmyun would think. He’d never mentioned knowing about Lu Han liking guys, although by the time they were chosen to debut pretty much all the trainees knew. In general he seems like the type of person who’d frown on such a thing, but then there’s some seniors in the company who everyone knows the stories about that Joonmyun is friendly with, so Minseok isn’t sure.  
  
“I haven’t told him anything,” Yixing says calmly. “He told me he saw you going into Lu Han’s room when were all in Beijing, though; did you know that?”  
  
Minseok nods — he remembers meeting Joonmyun coming out of Lu Han’s room as Minseok himself was about to go in. Lu Han had told him later, over the phone, that Joonmyun had come to apologise for reacting so badly when Lu Han initially announced his intention to leave, and to wish Lu Han luck. Minseok had suspected as much at the time, and he understood; apart from maybe Tao, almost nobody had had a harder time than Joonmyun when Yifan left.  
  
Then he realises something, and says, “Wait, he didn’t think we were —?”  
  
“He guessed,” Yixing says.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“It’s okay, hyung. Jongdae and I had guessed as well.”  
  
“I know, but — I knew you sort of knew anyway and you don’t —”  
  
“Joonmyun hyung is just worried about you,” Yixing interrupts, looking at Minseok seriously.  
  
Minseok calms somewhat. “So he doesn’t —?”  
  
“He’s just worried,” Yixing insists, “About both you and Lu Han hyung.”  
  
“Joonmyun’s been speaking to Lu Han?” Has everyone been speaking to Lu Han except for me, Minseok thinks.  
  
“A few times,” Yixing says.  
  
“And have they —?”  
  
“Talked about you? I don’t think so, hyung, although I didn’t specifically ask. But —” Yixing fixes Minseok with his big, kind eyes “— we can all tell you’re miserable. Lu Han hyung is, too.”  
  
It hurts, the thought that Lu Han is miserable and missing him. Minseok winces a little.  
  
“Have you and Lu Han hyung been in touch at all?” Yixing asks.  
  
“We tried,” Minseok says miserably. “When he first left. But we’re always so busy — and it’s so —” A painful lump comes to his throat, blocking any more words. He still dreams of Lu Han, still wakes up feeling Lu Han’s hands on his skin, Lu Han’s mouth against his, Lu Han’s body on top of his own. He still longs for that one night they had together, even though these days it often feels so far away it might as well have been a dream itself.  
  
Yixing gets up, a little hesitantly, but when Minseok doesn’t say anything, he comes and sits by Minseok’s side and pats him on the shoulder.  
  
“I don’t know what to do,” Minseok whispers, painfully. “I don’t know how it could work — how we’re supposed to —”  
  
“Maybe you should just give it a chance, hyung,” Yixing says.  
  
“I don’t want to talk any more,” Minseok says, and Yixing nods.  
  
They sit in silence for the rest of the break. When it comes time to head back to practise, Yixing brings Minseok some water, and they walk together back to the studio.  
  
“You know you can talk to me whenever you want, hyung?” Yixing says, just before they step inside. “If you want.”  
  
“I know,” Minseok says. He doesn’t want Yixing to interfere, but, he thinks, he appreciates that he has friends who are so concerned about him. He squeezes Yixing’s hand. “Thank you.”  
  
“Whenever you want,” Yixing insists. “I’ll do my best to heal you.” He lifts one hand and holds it out over Minseok’s chest, pretending to heal him, and Minseok laughs.

 

For the rest of the practise, Minseok thinks about nothing but Lu Han. His body makes the movements like a plane on auto-pilot, and Minseok observes occasionally, before returning to his thoughts.  
  
How long it’s been, he thinks, since he heard the sound of Lu Han’s voice, of Lu Han laughing; since he even looked at a picture of Lu Han. How long it’s been since he heard about what Lu Han’s doing, since he told Lu Han about his own life. Since he told Lu Han how much he still loves him.  
  
When their rehearsal is finally over, they head back to the dorm. Minseok goes straight to his room, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. Jongdae stops him as he goes and gives him a hug. Minseok hugs back. As they draw apart he notices Joonmyun watching them. Joonmyun smiles at Minseok, encouragingly, and Minseok smiles back.  
  
He closes the door of his room behind him and flops down on his bed. Alone, the desire to speak to Lu Han, just to hear him breathing at the other end of the phone, suddenly hits him in the gut, almost making him lose his breath. He wants Lu Han so badly — for Lu Han to be there, of course, in his arms but if he can’t have that then anything else, anything he can get.  
  
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolls through and finds the last messages he and Lu Han exchanged: “ _Are you around?_ ” “ _I’m just busy. I’ll talk to you when I have time_ ” and then one last message from Lu Han, over a week later: “ _Baozi!_ ” Then nothing.  
  
The nickname hangs on Minseok’s screen, as though still hoping for a response. 

Minseok swallows. Then, slowly, his stomach filling with butterflies, he types, “ _Lu-ge~_ ” and hits reply.  
  
A tick appears next to the message to indicate it’s been delivered. Barely a second later, the phone buzzes and the screen changes to show: ‘Lu Han calling.’  
  
It isn’t enough, Minseok thinks, but at least it’s something. It’s a chance.  
  
He presses the button to answer, and lifts the phone to his ear.

 

 

Fin


End file.
